


Crossing Lines

by OneLastThought



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Din’s POV, i felt the need to write this instead of sleeping, major chapter 15 spoilers, there’s a lot going on in his mind ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:40:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28025631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneLastThought/pseuds/OneLastThought
Summary: Din’s meaning of identity is challenged when faced with the prospect of saving Grogu from the hands of Moff Gideon.What has he done?
Comments: 27
Kudos: 156





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I never thought I’d be writing a fic for this fandom but I’ve gotten so incredibly attached to this show in the past three weeks that I felt inspired to do *something*. And the episode we were just gifted with has given us a lot to work with!! So enjoy :))))

“In order to access the network, the terminal has to scan your face.” 

And in that instant, the ground started to sway under Din’s feet, and the filtered light seeping in among the machinery started streaking wildly across his vision. The galaxy seemed to stop for a moment, when he realized what needed to be done. 

They had the kid, his kid… Grogu. The name felt underused in his mind. He hadn’t had enough time. If only he had known the kid’s name sooner. If only he had been able to protect him when he made the promise. If only he had had more time to spend with this child that mystified and fascinated him with his big eyes and magical powers. 

But there was no time to dwell upon any of that now. No. Now he had a chance to make wrongs right, and to fulfill his promise to Grogu. He couldn’t fail. It wasn’t an option. He needed to get that endearing womp rat back in his arms as soon as possible. 

But the conditions that led to this outcome were ones that Din was terrified to conjure in his mind. As he stood, overly hesitant, in the entryway of the mess hall, the heaviness of the situation fully struck him. The realization of how far he was willing to go to save Grogu was a revelation. There was no backing out now. 

With unsure, choppy movement, Din walked straight through the dining area, stopping only briefly to give a shaky salute to Hess, the man Mayfeld had been so apprehensive about. 

Din could feel the presence of a dozen imperial officers cutting deeper and deeper into his facade with each weighted step. 

Finally, through the painful daze, Din found himself in front of the terminal. Rushedly, he started the scan, hoping that by some incredulous stroke of fortune Mayfeld would’ve been wrong about the scanner needing a face, and the helmet would suffice. 

But no. The terminal denied access, and started to shut down completely in retaliation. It seemed as if Din had run out of good luck entirely. 

As the numbers started counting down from 10, the desperation inside of him grew. This was it. This was his one chance to save the kid, and he was going to let him slip away again. Grogu would be left at Gideon’s mercy, and it all would be Din’s own fault once again. 

He let out a shaky breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. Trembling hands reached up to remove the stormtrooper helmet from his head. Now... there was definitely no going back. 

In one swift motion, the helmet was gone, and the atmosphere invaded Din’s senses. 

The harsh light of the scanner was the first aspect to greet him, as it crossed up and down over his exposed face. The silence in the mess hall was deafening, and the automated voice of the terminal blared unpleasantly in his ears. 

Din’s breath was coming in faster now, and the unfiltered air felt so unnatural in the public space. He could feel eyes starting to turn on him as he worked with the machine. He tried not to think about it. He couldn’t afford to think about it. This was a complete disaster in several ways, and there weren’t many aspects that could make it even worse. 

But then he could hear a voice from the side of him call out, and he froze in his spot. 

“Trooper!” Valin Hess barked out to him expectantly. 

Din didn’t move. He couldn’t. He felt trapped. For once, his face wasn’t obstructed by shielding visor, and he still felt trapped. It was all over now. Any hope of things returning to how they were before this day were about to be crushed in a single moment as Din slowly turned to face the man who had sought him out. 

He turned to face another living thing in a way he hasn’t since he swore the Creed. 

Hesitantly, his eyes shifted slowly to make unpracticed contact with the narrowed and hardened eyes of Valin Hess. Din swallowed nervously. There was nothing for him to hide behind, no hope in seeking refuge behind beskar, and nowhere for him to go that would make this feeling of raw exposure go away. 

“What’s your designation?” Hess drawled out, his question seeped in suspicion. 

Din’s mouth went dry, and his voice failed him in the form of a shaky reply. 

“Transport crew,” he muttered, cautiously, testing the tone of his voice. 

The answer did nothing to appease the skeptical look on the imperial’s face. 

“What?” Hess demanded. 

He was impatient, Din could tell. But Din also could tell that his time was almost up. He had no idea what to say, no plan, and no protection against the imperials. This wasn’t going well at all. 

Yes, he was breaking the Creed, severely at that. But there was a reason behind it that was stronger than anything else Din has ever needed to fight for. 

He was doing this for Grogu, and he would do it over and over again if only it would help save that kid. That’s how much he meant to Din. So he had to stay strong. If not for himself, then for Grogu. He had to keep this going, no matter how uncomfortable, guilty, and powerless he felt right now… this was for his son. And so he responded, with surer footing. 

“My designation is transport copilot,” Din replied more confidently. 

And yet, it did nothing to shake the predatory exasperation off of Hess’ face. 

“No son,” he condescended impatiently. “What’s your TK number?” 

And Din drew a blank yet again. He desperately racked his brain for something, anything he could say that wouldn’t completely ruin the mission. 

There was no hope for him now. He was on his own, stripped of his protection, thrown into a situation where his carefully and venerably kept Creed was irreparably shattered, and he had no idea what to do next. 

“My TK number… is…” Din clutched blindly at straws, merely biding himself time to come up with a way out. 

“Uh-huh,” Hess pried in annoyance at the lack of promptness and discipline. 

Din knew that a way out was unlikely. Seeing Grogu again seemed even more unlikely. He was out of options and out of hope. 

Just as he was about to let out a randomized mix of numbers in defeat, Mayfeld’s voice came up beside him with practiced ease.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter ~Mayfeld~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was so much fun to write. Diving into this scene, and analyzing it to the core, was highly fascinating. There’s so much to unpack!! I hope you all enjoy. Comments and/or kudos are very much appreciated <3

“This is my commanding officer TK-593, sir.” 

Mayfeld’s confident words and stride were those of a man who knew how to lie, and how to lie convincingly. 

“I’m Imperial Combat Assault Transport Lieutenant TK-111, sir,” Mayfeld explained with ease. “I’m afraid you’ll have to speak up to him a little bit, since his vessel lost pressure in Taanab.”

Din let out a shaky breath, trying to focus on anything but the prying glare of Hess, who had now turned his attention over to Mayfeld. For a brief moment, all Din could feel was the sheer relief of not having Hess eying him, staring right through him… right into his soul. 

And of course the imperial could look directly into his eyes, because Din had removed his helmet, and he was no longer able to hide. The eyes that held all of the emotion were sheltered from the weary, prying, curious, and angered, when he had his helmet. Without it, there was nothing standing between the enemy and the terror written across Din’s face. 

The fear in his eyes must’ve been painfully readable. He wasn’t used to anyone ever searching his eyes for signs of his emotions. Hess’ judgmental peering through a lense narrowed in suspicion was causing Din an extreme amount of discomfort. 

Mayfeld’s intervention was a welcome lapse in the tormenting. And then Din’s brain slowly caught up with him. 

It was _Mayfeld_. 

The same Mayfeld who had been tormenting him and taking not-so-subtle jabs at Din’s loyalty to his helmet ever since they met on that prison ship. And now this same Mayfeld was… covering for him? No. That didn’t make any sense at all. It wasn’t right. 

All Din could remember were the incessant jeers, and the constant nagging. He remembered how Mayfeld egged on the other members of their prison break mission, mocking Din’s Creed. 

_“C’mon Mando, we all gotta trust each other here.”_

The memories started flooding back unpleasantly. 

_“You gotta show us somethin’.”_

Mayfeld had been so willingly unnerving. He knew what he was doing.

_“C’mon. Just lift the helmet up.”_

The persistence mixed with the sadistic glee had haunted Din. 

_“C’mon.”_

The voice was ringing deafeningly in his ears. 

_“Let’s all see his eyes.”_

And now, standing before him, this very same man just talked him out of a very dangerous situation. This same man who could use Din’s terribly humiliating moment as an opportunity to degrade him even more.

Here was the perfect chance for Mayfeld to really crush Din’s hope, and the ex-imperial opted out. In fact, he had more than just opted out; he was saving him. In this moment where Din felt so incredibly lost, surrounded by enemies and stripped of his Creed, Mayfeld wasn’t trying to drag his well-being even further through the mud. 

They locked eyes briefly, and for a fraction of a moment, the mutual panic was palpable. 

Mayfeld was looking directly at him. He had gotten what he had wanted all along. 

But Din didn’t have much time to react, when Hess returned his focus to him. 

“What’s your name, officer?” Hess asked, raising his voice and enunciating significantly. 

Some of the earlier wariness was replaced with bemusement. Din could only stare back, mutely, with his eyebrow slightly raised. He wasn’t used to having to control his facial expressions. The transparency was painful. 

His mind drew a blank in panic as Hess stared at him expectantly. It was absolutely mortifying. He *never* froze up like this. Any uncomfortable silences were initiated by Din himself. Everything about this interaction felt so wrong. There had to be _something_ he could-

“We just call him Brown Eyes,” Mayfeld blurted out suddenly. 

Din turned in surprise at the unexpected comment. 

Mayfeld kept his gaze straight ahead, raising his voice slightly when he asked, “Isn’t that right, Officer?” 

Din managed to nod his head hesitantly as the shock coursed through him. 

_‘Brown Eyes’_ , he repeated in his head, testing the feel of it. 

No one had ever described him based off of his facial features before. But here they were, and Mayfeld had just told this imperial that everyone called him _‘Brown Eyes’_ , and Din had nodded his head, agreeing with the sentiment. 

He felt like collapsing, like finding an empty room to throw himself into and scream until he had nothing left. This was exhausting, and taking a very large toll on him. 

Nothing about this was normal, especially not the fact that Mayfeld had just called him _‘Brown Eyes’_ as if it were a casual nickname, and everyone knew his eyes were brown, and the galaxy would just go on without skipping a beat. 

This was detrimentally messing with his head. He wanted his helmet back. He _needed_ his helmet back. And he was too exhausted to care about the Creed anymore. What was done had been done. He and Mayfeld just needed to escape as soon as possible and he could try and rid the events of this day from his mind. 

Deep down, he knew it would be impossible, but that sure as hell wouldn’t stop him from trying. 

Mayfeld grabbed Din’s arm insistently and started to drag him out of the mess hall. 

“C’mon,” he called out loudly. “Let’s go fill out those TPS reports, so we can go recharge the power cables.” 

And for a brief moment as they started to quicken their stride, Din felt a flicker of hope that they would be able to escape. 

“You’re not dismissed.”

Hess’ grave voice called back to them, stopping them in their tracks and crushing Din’s aforementioned last bit of hope. 

They stood still for a second, their backs still turned away from Hess. Slowly, Din and Mayfeld turned back to face the man, who was looking them over with a pensive stare. 

“You the tank troopers that delivered the shipment of rhydonium?” He interrogated. 

“Yes sir!” Came Mayfeld’s quick response. 

Half a second too late, Din echoed. “Yes, s-sir.” 

He stole a brief glance at Mayfeld, trying desperately to convey his confusion and nerves in his eyes. Mayfeld wasn’t looking at him though, he was making protocol eye contact with his superior. 

Then Hess started to approach Din, slowly, like a predator stalking its prey. The man’s eyes bore holes into him, forcing him to make eye contact. Din swallowed nervously and attempted to do Hess’ bidding, hesitating only slightly. 

Their eyes locked, and Din had no idea if the pure terror he was feeling right now was etched in bright colors all across his face for Hess to see. 

He was a beacon of suspicion. This was not the plan. This was not the plan at all. No one was supposed to walk over to him and make him feel even smaller and lost than he already did in that moment. Din’s nerves were all over the place. He had no idea where this conversation would be going. And then Hess spoke.

“Well you two managed to be the only transport today to deliver their shipment,” he stated matter-of-factly. 

He paused for a moment, allowing the implication of his response to dawn on Din and Mayfeld. Din relaxed slightly. At least Hess wasn’t suspicious that things had gone awry at the facility. The whole mission hadn’t been all for nothing. They were going to get out of there, right away, successfully. 

But then Hess slowly moved his right hand to rest it upon Mayfeld’s shoulder in a grasp that should’ve felt more inviting than it looked. 

“Come with me, hmm?” He asked slyly, slowly moving his left hand to Din’s shoulder and patting it slowly. 

Din tensed up again, even more than before if humanly possible. He felt miserable, and he probably looked the part. 

“Let’s get a drink,” Hess proposed smugly, while facing towards Mayfeld. 

Then he turned and looked at Din with one last sinister smile, before drawling out the end of the offer, seeped in morbid amusement:

“Brown Eyes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really got carried away with this one. The material I had to work with was just immaculate, and trying to put myself in Din’s head was a lot of fun for me as a budding writer. He deserves a very big hug. Once again, any and all feedback makes me so happy!! I want to thank everyone who has read, kudo’d, and commented so far. The response has really helped me pump out this chapter. The next one will soon be underway!!

**Author's Note:**

> Part two with Mayfeld coming soon! And then a part three for the aftermath of the situation. If you’ve read this far, thank you so much!! Once again, this is a very brand new fandom for me, so I’m still learning all the ropes when it comes to characters and such. If you could drop a kudo and/or comment that would be very much appreciated <3


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